Chapter 31
She had told the Laird that she would be leaving.
Now, Rose needed to do the same with the other people in his castle that she had come to befriend.
Fiona, even Eilidh—they all needed to know that very soon a carriage would take her and her parents back to England, and that it was very likely she would never see them again.
Very likely that her husband would no longer be her husband.
There was no part of her that delighted in that notion. Rose was truly and thoroughly heartbroken. All the more so for Dominik’s words that she could do whatever she wished. It was so cold, so flippant. Had he indeed never cared for her? After all they had been through together?
It should not matter, she thought to herself.
They were parting, and if she was sparing the man she loved a similar heartbreak by not being the object of his affections, all the better.
Rose was making the right decision. She was certain of it.
But it did not dull the ache that dogged her chest every moment she was awake.
Going first to the healing chambers, Rose sought out Fiona. She would be the hardest to talk to, so Rose wished to get it over with before she lost her nerve. At the back of the room, Fiona stood mixing herbs in a mortar and pestle as she often did.
“Fiona,” the sound of Rose’s voice cut through the air, pulling the woman around to face her, “I wish to speak with you.”
“Och, of course, me Lady. How can I be of assistance?”
Rose felt moments from sobbing like a child. Fiona was a phenomenal friend, and the knowledge that she would never see the young healer’s apprentice again filled Rose with nothing but sorrow and loneliness.
“There is nothing more to do for me, Fiona. I…I am leaving the keep. I will be returning to England with my family. There…there is much tension surrounding the Crown’s ruling on the killing, and I will be there to hear it.”
“I…I daenae understand. Ye’re leaving?” She shook her head, tears springing to the surface. “Nay! Ye cannae leave! I need ye here!”
Before Rose could speak words of comfort, Fiona launched herself toward her, wrapping Rose in an embrace that would not relent for anything. She squeezed herself against the lady, shaking her head furiously.
Her dear friend was inconsolable.
“Please, Fiona,” Rose sniffled, doing what she could to keep her own tears from spilling over, “you cannot cry. I enjoyed every minute of our time together, I can assure you of that. I wouldn’t leave if I didn’t think it was best for the clan, for its Laird.
This is simply the best thing I can do to ensure that Clan MacKay is not threatened because of Lord Egerton’s death. ”
“Nay, this cannae be the truth. I willnae let ye leave.” She held on tightly, sobbing into Rose’s shoulder. “I love ye, Rose. Like ye were me sister. Ye are the only true friend I have here.”
Pulling back, Rose held Fiona’s cheeks in her hands. “And I love you like a sister. My dearest friend in Scotland and England. I will write to you often. I will tell you of all the latest gossip in the ton.”
Fiona sniffled, a tiny smile crawling to the surface as a mournful laugh left her.
“I’ll say I am nae as much interested in it now. But I would have ye write me of yerself. I will know that me friend is well.”
Tears. So many shed between them, and Rose’s chest felt as if it would crack in two, letting her bleed out onto the floor. After a length of time Rose couldn’t guess, she pulled back from Fiona’s arms, sniffling as her friend did.
“I wish to say my farewells to Eilidh as well. I…I will see ye at dinner. We will make it a lovely meal to remember.”
Fiona’s eyes flared. “You’d have supper in the hall once more? Are ye sure?”
Rose considered what her dear friend was saying.
The young healer knew that Rose did not genuinely wish to go.
It was likely written all over her face.
And in truth, the Lady of the Castle had been wondering how she would be able to bring herself to have a meal with the man she was leaving, the one who held her heart but would not give her his.
“Yes. It is only right to take my leave with respect and civil custom.”
You will not be his, not a day more after this one. But perhaps you can at least cling to the memory of this night.
“Very well, me Lady. Make yer way to Eilidh. I’m sure she’ll have a word or two for you about all this.”
Chuckling, Rose nodded, giving Fiona one last embrace before turning and leaving the healing chambers to make her way to the kitchen.
The room smelled like sage and rosemary, the potent scent of fresh meat behind it.
Dinner was well into being prepared, and the kitchen was bustling with activity.
Eilidh stood at the long wooden table in the center of the rear portion.
She had her face down, concentrating on the slicing of several long carrots and a handful of potatoes.
As she walked up, Rose was absently aware of the tension in her chest, that pinch that had been with her since her decision, not letting up for even a single second. Normally, the fragrance of supper cooking would have her stomach growling, a hastily acquired love of everything Eilidh cooked.
But it didn’t. No part of Rose did more than simply exist.
“Good morning, Eilidh.” The woman looked up, jerking as a bit of surprise took her. “If you have a moment—”
“Lass! Ye nearly had me knife slipping into me own hand. Be careful when ye might startle a person with a blade in their hand!”
“My apologies, Eilidh. I only wished to speak with you about something.”
The background humor of Eilidh’s expression—something that was always there if you knew to look for it—dropped. The woman stared at Rose intently, cocking her head as her brow dipped low over her eyes.
“Ye daenae bring happy news, I think.” Eilidh’s voice was low, and she circled the table, coming to stand in front of Rose.
“No.” Rose forced herself to swallow. “I fear not. I…I will be taking my leave, returning with my parents to England. The Crown will soon pass judgment over the death of the Viscount, and…I would be of most service were I in London when that verdict is delivered.”
Silence between them in the hustle and bustle of the kitchen, servants crisscrossing this way and that as food was hauled about the room. For minutes, Eilidh took in everything Rose could not say out loud, reading her expression and the silent confession that was etched into her face.
Rose did not want to go, but she would protect Dominik as best she could from the Crown’s wrath. Even…even if he did not love her.
A small smile stretched over Eilidh’s face, and she held out an arm, ushering Rose into her embrace.
“Och, lass.” As Rose dropped her head to Eilidh’s shoulder, the woman patted her cheek. “I see. I see. A…a fine dinner will be prepared. A proper send-off.”
She pulled Rose’s face up to hers, her palms flat against either cheek now.
“For the Lady of the Castle.”
A sob tore free of Rose, ragged and quick. Eilidh did see. She understood. And that somehow made the pain of it that much worse. After months of working to gain the woman’s respect, it appeared that Rose had indeed done just that, along with her friendship.
“I thank you, Eilidh. I will bring everything you taught me with me to England.”
“I have nae doubt, lass.”
A commotion at the door behind her drew Rose’s attention away from Eilidh and to the two loud figures coming into the kitchen. Peggy and Oskar strode in, her maid hot on the heels of the man-at-arms, who headed directly toward Rose with his brows up.
“And what is all this that I hear of ye leaving?” Oskar stopped in front of her, Peggy struggling to keep up behind him, her breathing hurried.
“I tried to tell him, mistress. Be he could not be reasoned with.” Peggy glared playfully over at Oskar, and it was the first time Rose could see that air of friendliness in Peggy’s eyes behind the familiar gesture.
“I see. Well, yes. I will be returning to England with my parents. Someone must be there to hear the Crown’s judgment, and I will better serve the situation in London, where I can be a part of it.”
“Is that so?” Oskar looked as if he believed her as much as he believed the sun was purple. “And ye talked this over with the Laird?”
The mention of Dominik was a swift kick to her gut, like Rose had made the mistake of walking behind an agitated horse. She nodded slowly, doing her level best to school her expression into one of indifference.
“I have. He assured me that I could do whatever I wished.”
Oskar’s typical snarky expression shifted, genuine surprise and then concern washing over his handsome features. Peggy shrank into herself at the words, flicking a nervous glance up at Oskar before pinning it on Rose.
“He said that?” Oskar stepped forward as he asked. “What in the bloody hell is wrong with him?”
“Oskar!” Eilidh snapped, whacking him on the arm with the back of her hand.
He only flinched slightly, rolling his eyes as evident exasperation filled his expression, saying, “The two of ye. I think that conversation was as honest and straightforward as speaking with one of the unseelie.”
Rose didn’t quite understand what Oskar was saying, though she’d been educated in the folklore of fairies since her arrival. If she had parsed it out correctly, Oskar knew that speaking to her with the Laird had undoubtedly been a conversation of hidden motives and lies of omission.
“You are quite sure that leaving is the best course of action, mistress?”
Utterly shocked to hear the words from Peggy of all people, Rose didn’t bother to hide her surprise.
“Of all the people. Peggy, you wish for us to stay?”
Her maid blushed, lowering her face toward the floor. “I…I would not presume to tell you what to do, my lady. Though I will admit that I have grown to…enjoy my time here.”
Oskar snorted, chuckling as he nudged Peggy in the arm with his elbow.
“See. I told ye that we’d win ye over.”